


i hope to see you again

by chininiris



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Cindered Shadows DLC Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Presumed Dead, Rating May Change, Will add more tags as we go, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chininiris/pseuds/chininiris
Summary: Ferdinand is quiet for a moment, eyes downcast as he observes his boots and thinks over his next words. Patiently, she waits. “I do believe that this could be a sign that he is still alive, Your Majesty.”“A sign,” she muses, recalling something Seteth said right after that meeting. Something about it meaning that Dimitri wanted her to have guided him to avoid that fate. “You really think so?”“Yes,” comes the immediate reply as he lifts his gaze back to her face. “Recurring dreams always mean something, in my experience.”Don’t they always? She used to dream of Sothis and a millennium-old war before she came to the monastery, only to find that she was deeply linked with the Goddess of old and the two people that starred in that battle.Reliving that meeting with Dimitri over and over in her dreams, Byleth decides to try to find him. Post Silver Snow. Dimileth.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Ferdinand von Aegir & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Seteth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 112





	1. a new dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished all routes so here it is, my child, the baby I've been writing since mid December. 
> 
> Before we go in, here's your warning that there will be spoilers for every route (as you can see in the tags). They will be mentioned, or they will be referenced, or events will be inspired by them. There will be some headcanons/theories too, so make sure you're okay with that.
> 
> More notes at the end. Without further ado, enjoy your reading!
> 
> Here's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2F12KCqOR7i0yZWrjQBQyE?si=r4nEpFJuTZWLMRu1cA2Rbg) and [Queen Byleth outfits](https://twitter.com/chinaraii/status/1226278372176736256) for your enjoyment!

* * *

_Day 1 of the Wyvern Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

In the Oghma Mountains, the Garreg Mach Monastery halts its reconstructions efforts and prepare for a change. 

Nobles stream in from the front gates, up the staircase and into the entrance hall, crossing the structure towards the grand holy building in the back of the monastery. Extra pews and seats were brought to the cathedral, and the room fills up quickly as more people appear to witness the ceremony.

Workers put down their tools as the appointed time comes close, walking to the cathedral and trying to find a spot from behind the crowd to catch a glimpse of the altar. Knights line the long aisle leading up to the altar, armors gleaming and spines straight. Dressed in pristine white robes, the members of the choir post themselves to the side, lead by two former students that smile gently at each other as they instruct their peers. 

The hole in the roof has been patched up for the occasion a while ago, though it will take some time until it can be restored to its former glory. The debris that littered the ground has long since been removed, the floor swept and scrubbed clean, polished until the servants could see their own faces.

It has been a long time since the cathedral was last given its proper care, and with so much more pressing issues needing their attention, its clean, immaculate state isn’t a priority, but exceptions are made for today.

Both women leading the church choir start a hymn, the other members joining in unison until their voices fill the whole cathedral. Those who claimed seats stand in anticipation, as a small group of people emerge from within the Chamber of Saints. 

In one last act as archbishop, Lady Rhea, having recovered enough from the wounds she sustained during her years of captivity and the long lasting war, walks to the altar with sure steps and her head held high. Her most trusted advisor follows closely behind with a silver sword balanced on his upturned palms. Behind him, his sister carries a deep blue pillow with a headdress resting upon it.

The hymn rises in pitch and intensity as the people turn to the grand doors of the cathedral, slowly opening to let more sunlight spill into the room, the bright light framing the fourth and most important participant of the ceremony. With a face devoid of emotions, she strides with no hesitation to face her future, her new role in this new chapter of the history of Fódlan. 

A pillow rests at the base of the altar where she kneels after bowing deeply in the presence of the archbishop, pale mint hair falling in curtains around her face and obscuring it from view. Her form, normally seen clad in black, now dons a formal white gown, and a deep blue mantle embroidered with the motif of the Crest of Flames in gold in the space between her shoulder blades. Her shoulders remain aligned even as the calming hymn of the choir quietens and Lady Rhea’s cool and commanding voice replaces it. 

After the fall of the Adrestrian Empire and the elimination of the evil forces that lurked in the dark, the Church of Seiros brings together all territories of Fódlan under an unified reign as it had been once, so very long ago. As had been the intent of the former Adrestian Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg, a goal to which she strove for relentlessly. 

A goal she would have accomplished had her former academy professor not chosen to take a stand against her. 

Now, with the threat to peace gone and buried, Fódlan and its people look forward to a new dawn led by the strong hands of their savior, the one in charge of the main resistance force against the Empire, the one who had led the Church of Seiros and its knights in the wake of the archbishop’s capture.

To prevent that Fódlan fell in another state of disarray, the Church sped along the coronation process, inviting nobles into the monastery as soon as possible to ease the worries of the population by presenting them with a new ruler.

Although it was all planned in the span of a few weeks, they did whatever in their power to ensure that the event would not look rushed. With the help of their many allies gained during the war thanks to the efforts of their lead figure, the Church managed to keep the ceremony tasteful as tradition requires, but with less pomp and extravagance. 

Only a few people in the cathedral know that the white dress once belonged to Lady Rhea and had been remodelled to fit the new frame, or that the mantle is just a placeholder until they have enough funds for one of higher quality. 

She repeats words Lady Rhea whispers, the vow she makes to the people, a vow to keep them safe and look out for them, to rebuild Fódlan and maintain the peace, to be true and honest and brave, to lead them into a new era of prosperity.

The gleaming blade of the Sword of Seiros touches each of the new ruler’s shoulders as Lady Rhea recites words she has long since memorized. Even as the sharp metal touches her, the savior keeps her shoulders even and squared as is expected of a noble figure. 

Seteth takes back the sword as Flayn brings forth the headpiece resting on the pillow, the one item that was crafted with great care. Forged by a master artisan from the Leicester region that was recommended by the younger Goneril sibling, the crown glimmers under the colorful sunlight that streams through the stained glass as Lady Rhea lifts it up with both hands and prepares to end the ceremony.

Once the crown is delicately placed upon her head, she is required to stand and face the many faces of her people, familiar and unfamiliar alike, as Rhea folds her hands primly and says, “Long live the Queen!” 

A chorus of cheers and applause comes from the masses watching the ceremony, the loudest, most notable cheers belonging to former students. Knights unsheathe their swords and point the blades to the heavens with a cheer of their own. 

“Long live the Queen!”

* * *

_Day 20 of the Wyvern Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

The crown on her head is a new addition to her daily outfit, as is the new weight of responsibilities and expectations to lead the new United Kingdom of Fódlan out of ruin. Byleth can’t say she’s the perfect person for this role, but her allies believed she was the right choice and had faith in her abilities, and she is determined to make them proud. 

Leading a band of mercenaries like her father used to doesn’t come close to leading a nation, nor does leading a group of students into increasingly dangerous missions, but long moons spent running the monastery in Rhea’s stead with Seteth’s help have helped her gain some precious experience. Now, her trials won’t take place in a bloody battlefield, but rather in an office surrounded by paperwork.

Seteth still aids her, Sothis bless him, and took on the appointed role of prime-minister without much complaint. She would probably have given up on her first week as acting archbishop were he not there by her side to guide her with valuable advices, a level head and a steady hand.

Garreg Mach has become the new home of the ruler of Fódlan, as well as its new capital. She was given Rhea’s former room on the third floor, and the advisor’s room next to the audience chamber became her office, where she spends most of her days going over treaties and trade routes and reports on skirmishes with Ferdinand, who stepped up to be her advisor upon her request. 

With Seteth occupying the role of Prime Minister, and with Edelgard gone, it only made sense to direct Ferdinand towards the next ruler with a valuable role of his own. He had been preparing himself all his life to be the next Duke Aegir, the next Prime Minister of the Empire, and thus he is qualified enough to lend her a hand.

After another sleepless night, Byleth finds herself thinking of her students instead of focusing on the piles of paperwork that grow higher each day. Ferdinand is right here, quite literally, diligently reading through reports in his own work desk. Linhardt has been accepted as Hanneman’s apprentice and spends most of his time either napping or fishing with some of the quieter orphans. 

Petra has gone back to Brigid with the knowledge that both countries won’t engage in another war now that Byleth is at the head of the kingdom, and Dorothea went with her, leaving Fódlan and its nobles behind. Bernadetta has secluded herself into varley territory, hardly, if ever, coming out. 

Caspar died in an attack that was pure cowardice, slashed in the back by some lesser imperial knight when they were invading the palace. Linhardt tried to hard to save him and, with hands soaked in blood, avenged his friend by striking down the knight with a dark magic spell.

Last she heard, Raphael is serving his lord as a knight. Leonie leads Jeralt’s band of mercenaries, seeing as Byleth can’t do so. Lorenz is also helping Byleth with political matters, now part of her council and the first appointed Minister of Domestic Affairs. Hilda has opened her first shop of handmade accessories in Goneril territory and is winning over the noble ladies with her fine work. 

Ignatz managed to convince his parents to support his dream of becoming an artist and gave up their dream of becoming a knight. Marianne went back to her territory and is furthering her studies under her adoptive father, before she steps up to take on the role of Minister of Religious Affairs Byleth had offered. 

Lysithea is... Gone. Despite Linhardt’s and Hanneman’s valiant efforts to try and save her, time caught up with her too quickly after the confrontation in Gronder Field where she sustained heavy injuries that left her severely weakened.

Claude went missing after Gronder Field. Some of his friends think he is still alive, other grieve him. Byleth suspects he might be in hiding or... Not here at all. 

Recently knighted, Ashe returned to Castle Gaspard to govern in Lord Lonato’s stead as his oldest son.Sylvain is back in Gautier territory, determined to ease the tension between Fódlan and Sreng. After fleeing Gronder as she had been commanded, Mercedes came to Garreg Mach with a wounded Ingrid, who had fallen from her pegasus during the skirmish and has been unresponsive since. 

Shortly after the war, Felix relinquished his noble title and chose to roam the lands as a mercenary, leaving the Fraldarius territory unprotected. Dedue was last seen leaving the Imperial Capital before Byleth could even thank him or share a brief goodbye. 

After Gronder, word reached them that two gingers, seemingly related, were found in the aftermath of the battle. Mercedes was inconsolable for the longest time. And Dimitri... 

Byleth turns away from the windows, finding that her eyes burn for reasons other than staring at the bright sunlight for too long. It’s a struggle to focus on the papers again, but she manages after some time. 

* * *

_Day 6 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1886, Eisner Era_

* * *

“Are you quite all right, Pro- Your Majesty?” For all that Byleth had tried to get her students to call her by name back in the day, she sure misses her title as an academic now. “You look rather... Pale, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

She gives him a worn out smile which she hopes can convey how _exhausted_ she is. “Another sleepless night, don’t worry about it.” 

Ferdinand furrows his brow in concern, clearly not finding her answer satisfactory. “Have you tried drinking the tea Manuela recommended? Chamomile, was it?”

Oh, she tried, she really did, but the tea would quickly go sour on her tongue, rendering it undrinkable. “Brewing tea late at night is the last thing on my mind after I am done with these, to be honest.” 

“I can have some brought to you this evening, if you would like.” Pausing, he takes a moment to critically observe the shadows under her eyes and the downward slope of her tired shoulders. “Nightmares, again?” 

“Yes,” she replies easily, honestly. Not only is he her advisor, but he’s also become a confidant of sorts when it comes to a certain matter that surfaced after the bloody battle in Gronder Field. Byleth often wishes that she could have taken part in it, _if only_. “It happens more frequently and keeps getting worse.” 

It started harmlessly enough, after that one late night just outside the town. First, Byleth would replay in her head that strange meeting with Dimitri, witnessing the same brief minutes over and over, hearing the words she already knows by heart again and again.

Later, after Enbarr, she started to relive the death of her former student in her dreams on most nights. Edelgard would fall by her hands again and again, her blood pooling by their feet and her head rolling away, platinum hair in disarray and soaked red. 

Cruel as it may have been to have her former teacher taking her life, that was the end Edelgard chose for herself, requesting it to Byleth personally. If she had to fall, then let it be by her hands, as she had said.

From there, her dreams starring Dimitri got quickly out of hand. As if Edelgard’s fall had flipped a switch, her brain would supply her with different scenarios in which Dimitri could have died. Each night her mind would create something new, one more horrifying than the last. 

Sometimes she would see him as she saw him that one night, quiet and worn down and full of regrets, looking to explain himself to the last and only person who would listen. Each time, before he could ever finish, he would crumble in front of her in a different manner, always so gruesome and bloody.

Suffice to say, Byleth hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in weeks.

Ferdinand is quiet for a moment, eyes downcast as he observes his boots and thinks over his next words. Patiently, she waits. “I do believe that this could be a sign that he is still alive, Your Majesty.” 

“A sign,” she muses, recalling something Seteth said right after that meeting. Something about it meaning that Dimitri wanted her to have guided him to avoid that fate. “You really think so?” 

“Yes,” comes the immediate reply as he lifts his gaze back to her face. “Recurring dreams always mean something, in my experience.” 

Don’t they always? She used to dream of Sothis and a millennium-old war before she came to the monastery, only to find that she was deeply linked with the Goddess of old and the two people that starred in that battle. Byleth is too afraid of clinging to the notion of it in wishful thinking, but if Dimitri’s image visits her dreams every night, there might really be a reason for that, after all. 

She gives Ferdinand a little grateful smile, always appreciative of his wise words and input. Her advisor, on his part, tells her to take a break and rest as he arranges the documents on the tabletop into a neat pile.

* * *

_Day 17 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

Vesryn is the one who the students affectionately called the Gatekeeper back in academy days, and the nickname stuck through the war as well. Always keeping his post by the front gates of Garreg Mach, Byleth would stop and talk to him whenever she had business to do in the small market set up in the courtyard, and he never seemed put off about her expressionless face and blunt tone, greeting her with enthusiasm each time. 

Byleth never had the chance to ask him to join her for tea, but through these brief conversations over the moons, she got to know him better. He is a diligent, hard working man who takes his job very seriously despite the simplicity of it. She had been considering recommending him to become part of the active forces of the Knights of Seiros to partly fill in the gap left by Shamir and Catherine after their departure, but Byleth has better plans for him. 

It’s the first time she gets to invite him for tea, and thus the first time she sees him without the helm. He pats down the messy mop of curly black hair on his head, and his brown eyes crease as he smiles at her. Even with her new title, he still greets her each day rather energetically. Only now, he swapped the salute for a bow.

“It’s a pleasure to be here with you, professor!” The word tumbles out of his lips easily, and he doesn’t seem to notice the slip. Byleth doesn’t mind. Being called professor makes her feel a semblance of normalcy. 

A little digging around and Byleth found out his favorite tea flavor, the rich smell of ginger wafting up in spirals as she pours some into the cup. “The pleasure is all mine, Vesryn. Tell me, how have you been?”

Even now, small talk isn’t her forte, but this is a good opportunity to hone her skills in preparation for the future. Byleth is already dreading all the balls she will have to host and attend, and all the nobles swarming her all the time for a chance to have a conversation with her. 

As usual, talking with Vesryn is pleasant. It feels a lot like he’s reporting, despite claiming that there never is anything to report, but still she sips her tea and listens as he retells some of the things that occurred this past week, the new training routine that Alois came up with, and the new guards that joined their forces. 

Vesryn nods gratefully as she refills his cup. “I have the impression that I wasn’t called here just to chat, though.” 

Her lips quirk up. He’s very perceptive, a trait much needed for what she has planned. “Yes. I actually have a request.” 

“A mission,” he corrects gently, giving her a knowing look. She shakes her head slowly.

“A personal request.” Byleth thinks of her latest nightmare, of golden locks tinged red with blood and a vacant, lifeless blue stare, and suppresses a shudder. “I would like for you to search for someone for me.” 

“Search for?” Vesryn inclines his head in curiosity. “You really don’t know where they are?” 

“I’m afraid not,” she confesses with a sigh. Byleth doesn’t even know if he is indeed alive. “He’s been missing for some time.” 

Vesryn watches her. She wonders how well he can read her after all this time. “And who is he, Your Majesty?”

Byleth looks up from her tea to meet his eyes. “The Crown Prince of Faerghus.”

* * *

_Day 23 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

“A reason...”

Light from flickering torches illuminates him from behind, casting a slight glow to his silhouette. Byleth watches as Dimitri hangs his head, dirty hair falling to obscure his face from view. She wants to run to him, she wants to reach out, but her body won’t respond. 

“Everyone gives such complicated advice, and I can never quite grasp it at all. That is why...” He looks at her again, bags from lack of sleep under his eyes, the thin skin so dark it makes him look like a corpse. But he’s not- “Professor. I came here to explain my decision.”

“What decision?” She finds herself asking yet again, no longer curious, but unable to stop herself from speaking.

Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but the only sound to come out is a gurgling, choking noise as blood spills from his lips. His knees give out, red blooming on his throat from a slash delivered by an unseen enemy, his lifeforce being drained out of him as he weakly lifts a hand towards her, pleading for help. 

Byleth wakes up with a shout, skin clammy and cold to the touch, legs tangled in the sheets. She lies in bed staring at the dark ceiling, gasping for air and trying to slow her hammering pulse. 

* * *

_Day 29 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

Byleth stands at the front gates of Garreg Mach at the break of dawn, Ferdinand ever present by her side, and Vesryn hooking his foot in the stirrup to mount his horse. 

He didn’t ask many questions, and accepted her vague answer of “just a feeling” when asked why she thought Dimitri could still be alive. She had given him the right to refuse should he want to stay, but he had been determined to set off and search Fódlan high and low for any traces of the prince, and of Dedue and Claude too should he ever find anything. 

Byleth still isn’t used to wearing the circlet and cape from her enlightened outfit on a daily basis, neither is she used to long embroidered dresses, but there is some kind of fantastic quality to this scene to outsiders, or so she thinks. A queen seeing off one of her knights as he embarks in a secret journey at her request, sunlight spreading across the land and lightening up his path. Like a section extracted straight out of a fictional story that Ashe and Ingrid enjoyed to read, before. 

She didn’t tell the Blue Lions close to her about the truth behind all this, nor did she divulge her nightmares and the words he repeats every night. Only the three of them and Seteth know, and though the latter is skeptical about the chances of ever finding a trace of Dimitri, he still supports her decision. 

Vesryn doesn’t say anything as he nods and turns the horse around, facing the path away from the monastery. Their last words were exchanged in her office just a few minutes ago, away from prying eyes and curious ears. Byleth would rather keep everything under wraps, and anyone who’s now witnessing Vesryn riding away from Garreg Mach will soon forget that he was ever sent away. 

“Are you hopeful, Your Majesty?” Ferdinand asks in a quiet tone, mindful of the knights in their watching posts not too far. 

“I’d rather not get my hopes up.” She would be crushed if Vesryn never found anything, and that all these nightmares are just that- nightmares, nothing more, nothing less. “At the very least, I will have my answer, then.” 

Ferdinand hums and turns away from the road once Vesryn is just a tiny spot in the distance. “Shall we, Your Majesty?” 

Byleth leads the way back inside and tries to erase the memory of the mission from her mind. 

* * *

_Day 20 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

It’s the first time since day thirty of the Great Tree Moon that Byleth willingly brews some chamomile tea. She sets a table in the terrace just outside her room, pours two cups, arranges a plate of baked treats, and places a flower from the greenhouse beside one of the steaming cups.

The blooms are small and of a delicate blue. Forget-me-nots, she recalls, and disregards all of the somber meanings. She picked the flower because its color reminds her of his eyes, clear as they were back then when laughter filled these halls.

She doesn’t light a candle; that would be the same as admitting that he’s dead.

And he is not.

* * *

_Day 26 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

She goes to the graveyard in the afternoon, a simple arrangement of flowers in the crook of her elbow. The pain of losing her father has lessened some, but she still misses him as she would a limb. 

Alois offered to accompany her and stands by her side in silence with his hands folded in prayer. He’s one of the few that still treats her with the same familiarity as before, and she has no words to describe how grateful she is. It’s odd to have so many people bowing at her, and she wonders if she will ever grow used to it. 

Byleth touches the ring hanging from a chain beneath the dress, pressing it to her sternum. She remembers coming here shortly before Rhea had lost control and transformed into the Immaculate One, recalling her dad’s wish of having her gift it to someone she loves. Back then, she had thought of a few allies that meant a lot to her, but found that she didn’t know if what she felt was actually _love_.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, maybe she will never know what that is like, and maybe none of them were _the one_.

Either way, Byleth holds on to the ring and keeps his request in mind. 

* * *

_Day 4 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

Byleth visits the room often, but not as often as Mercedes. Her friend, rapidly becoming one of her best and closest friends in Garreg Mach, finds the time to come here twice to pray. Right now, she isn’t here.

The air smells like mint as steam wafts up from a cup on the bedside table, placed near a small vase with an arrangement of beautiful daisies plucked from the greenhouse. Byleth sits on the edge of the mattress and gazes at the serene face bathed in gentle sunlight pouring from outside, growing blonde hair spread about her head like a halo. 

Lying still under the comforters, Ingrid slumbers on.

* * *

_Day 11 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

Days pass and blur together. It’s a long road to recovery, and they relentlessly work towards it with all they have. Much needs to be reconstructed, many people are still in need of support, conflicts still take place in remote areas, and Byleth tries to meet all the people’s needs and demands as soon as possible. 

Each day, groups of the Knights of Seiros are dispatched to aid ruined villages and its struggling inhabitants, providing with mostly non-perishable goods and supplies, helping to rebuild broken homes and putting together a crop for collective use. Mercedes often joins in those missions, usually the ones closer to Garreg Mach, and helps to look after and take care of the children as the Knights do their business. The monastery currently houses dozens of orphans, and the number is bound to grow as soon as the Knights return from their missions.

Byleth has a meeting scheduled with Petra weeks from now to negotiate the emancipation of Brigid and forge new diplomatic ties on more equal terms. Recently turned Margrave Gautier, Sylvain has been working on his goal to make relations between Sreng and Fódlan better for all involved.

As of now, matters with Duscur and Almyra remain on hold. With Dedue gone, Byleth doesn’t know anyone who would be well received by his people, and she’s hesitant to make a deal with them without someone by her side who personally understands their issues and culture. With Almyra, she supposes Cyril could help with that, but he’s estranged from his home country at this point, and politics isn’t something he’s well versed in. 

For an organization with reaches all over Fódlan, Byleth is surprised that the Church of Seiros hadn’t resolved any of these issues entirely in all of its years of activity... Or maybe she shouldn’t be surprised, given the circumstances.

Busy as she is all the time, Byleth sleeps like a log every night, too exhausted to even dream of anything. That way, it’s almost easy to forget that Vesryn is somewhere out there in Fódlan looking for any clues that might lead to Dimitri, alive or otherwise. 

_Almost_ easy. She simply cannot forget her personal request. 

As requested, Vesryn sends frequent updates, though Ferdinand is the one who reads and responds. She knows that Ferdinand will tell her right away if important news come by, but it seems Vesryn hasn’t found anything significant yet, for Ferdinand doesn’t mention these letters at all.

Her advisor was the one to offer to handle the reports himself, reasoning that she would only grow more restless if she were to read those weekly deliveries, but as it turns out, not reading them still leaves her anxious.

At least, the nightmares have stopped for now. No more blood and gore, no more having to watch him die every night. No more having to relive Edelgard’s death in the throne room of her palace, no more wondering how Annette and her father went down, no more imagining that Lysithea is indeed haunting her. 

Byleth wonders how it is that she hasn’t succumbed to these ghosts trailing her every step yet. Perhaps Sothis’s influence is keeping them at bay, keeping her sane.

She rubs at her temples to stave off a headache. At this pace, she will soon need reading glasses from how much she’s been going over reports until late at night until her eyes hurt. There are not enough hours in a day to get all of her work done. 

The pot of tea brought earlier remains untouched, long since gone cold. It’s been moons and still the taste of chamomile makes her stomach churn. 

* * *

_Day 28 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

_No drinking and eating in the library_ , the new librarian says, a middle-aged lady that manages to be both kind and stern at the same time. A single glance from the corner of her eyes is enough to get the occupants of the room deadly silent.

She lets it slide when the queen shows up with a cup of sweet-apple blend and a plate with a slice of cake, and occupies a desk on the upper floor with reports for company. The orphans being taught how to read by one of the nuns stop and stare as she enjoys her tea. 

Byleth tries not to grimace whenever she takes a sip. Lots of sugar, the way she liked it.

* * *

_Day 7 of the Lone Moon, Year 1186, Eisner Era_

* * *

On a daily basis, Byleth makes sure she looks presentable enough for her role as ruler, but she doesn’t waste time with intricate hairdos and a ton of jewelry. Rhea took the time to pin lilies to her hair to complement her headpiece every day. In contrast, Byleth leaves her room in the mornings with the circlet in place and the bare minimum to show her status: dress of white and silver, enlightened robes of purple and gold. 

Today, she has to put a lot more effort, hence why Mercedes is currently looking through the jewelry box she inherited from Rhea, which contains very few pieces Byleth herself was gifted once she ascended to the throne. 

Her outfit is much fancier than what she is used to, made of silks and furs and expensive fabrics too soft to the touch. Her usual circlet given to her as a physical token of Sothis’s blessing (Rhea’s words) was replaced by her actual crown, much heavier and opulent, made of gold and studded with many clear crystals. Her hair was curled and pinned away from her face, bangs arranged nicely on her forehead, and the white lilies Rhea was so fond of are tangled in her pale mint tresses.

The whole ensemble screams _royalty_ , and Byleth has a hard time recognizing herself in the mirror. 

Mercedes returns with a pair of sparkling earrings and matching necklace made by Hilda, the first pieces from her new business. Byleth is glad she won’t have to walk around the monastery grounds looking like this. It seems wrong to display so much wealth on her when so many people of the kingdom are still struggling to get enough food and medications to survive. 

“How are the children doing?” Looking for something to busy her mind with, Byleth inquires about the orphans housed in the monastery, occupying the rooms that once belonged to the students.

“They are adapting well enough.” Mercedes’s voice holds a hint of fondness. “Although, some of them keep asking about their parents or their homes...”

Byleth can see the frown twisting Mercedes’s face when the bishop leans closer to put the earring in place. “I’m sorry. I know how hard it must be for you, but you are the best person I could have chosen to handle this.” 

Mercedes shakes her head gently. “It’s quite alright, Lady Byleth. If you recall, when I was younger, I mentioned it was my dream to help those in need.” 

She recalls that well, the talk they had one day in town when Mercedes helped a stranger out of the goodness of her heart whilst Byleth had been floundering. It was one of the reasons why Byleth put Mercedes in charge of looking after the kids in the first place, but not only that.

“You’re compassionate,” she adds, watching her friend’s face from the corner of her eyes. “That’s not easy to find, even here in Garreg Mach.” 

How many times had Dedue been refused to help in the monastery, and the ones turning him down had been monks, priests, other believers and staff members? How many nasty whispers had she heard coming from the wealthy about the poor, the commoners, the refugees? What of Ashe, who had been in the bad end of a discussion in the wake of Lord Lonato’s rebellion? And Sylvain who had words thrown at him because of his brother? Marianne and Bernadetta, who had been ridiculed for their introverted behavior? Petra who was made fun of due to her difficulty with speaking their language?

Given the way Mercedes’s lips press into a tight line, she is thinking along the same lines, too.

“I am glad I get to talk with them on a daily basis.” Mercedes fiddles with the clasp of the necklace and walks around the chair. “They are good kids, and they learn so fast.”

The gold of the necklace is cool as it rests on the base of Byleth’s throat. “I have to visit them again soon. I haven’t had much time these days.” 

“I’m sure they will like to talk to you once more.” Mercedes closes the clasp and comes to stand in front of Byleth to survey her work, laying her cheek on her hand and pursing her lips. “All done! Looking like a real sovereign, in my humble opinion.” 

Byleth stands and walks to the full body mirror, taking in her appearance. “Did I not look like a sovereign before?”

Mercedes giggles and approaches with a lipstick in hand, smudging a bit of red on Byleth’s lips as the final touch. “Of course you did. But now you- ah, you know what I mean! Don’t tease me, Lady Byleth.”

Byleth snickers and takes hold of Mercedes’s hands to give them a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for the help, my friend.” 

“Anytime, professor.” Exchanging smiles, they walk together until they have to part ways, each heading to their next appointment. 

In one of the rooms on the second floor, a high-backed chair of deep red cushions waits for her to sit upon. Heavy draperies hang in the back for a touch more of finesse to the scene that was put together, framing the weapons on display on the wall. A rapier, its polished blade a gleaming silver and the hilt made of gold, the very same she uses for knighting ceremonies and other official matters, rests in its intricately carved scabbard. 

Seteth and Ferdinand wait inside as they talk to the artist. Ignatz has changed some since she last saw him in her coronation. Color is back on his cheeks, and the ashen complexion and shadows under his eyes were left in the past with harder, bloodier times. He stands straighter, surer of himself, and keeps the round glasses and scholar look. 

He talks animatedly as he sets up his canvas, tall and wide enough that he will need a stool of some sort to reach the top. Too extravagant to Byleth’s liking, but it’s expected of a ruler, or so they say. 

Seteth appraises her as soon as she steps fully into the room and nods once. “Mercedes did a splendid job.”

“So she did. She loves dressing me up like a doll and always is looking forward to an opportunity to do so.” Byleth remembers the last White Heron Cup and how Ingrid had run away from Mercedes and her makeup supplies. “Hello, Ignatz. It’s good to see you again.” 

“Likewise, Your Majesty.” Ignatz bows crisply at the waist, and Byleth isn’t given the time to correct him as Ferdinand herds her towards the chair. “It’s an honor to be the one to paint your first official portrait as the Queen of the United Kingdom of Fódlan.”

“I know no better artist for the job.” She lets Seteth and Ferdinand arrange her limbs for the painting. If Mercedes thought of her as a doll, they must see her a mannequin. “I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”

Pink colors his cheeks and he rubs at his face with a knuckle. “Y-You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” 

Seteth and Ferdinand exchange quiet words as they try to fit the rapier into the pose they chose. With how much effort they’ve put into creating this scene and making it grand, she has to wonder why they didn’t choose the throne in the Holy Tomb. Considering that Sothis literally lives within her, it would have been fitting. But she supposes Seteth would find it disrespectful towards his mother, even if she is a part of Byleth. 

Or maybe the people would think she is trying to put herself on the same level as a goddess worshipped for generations. That wouldn’t bode well.

Ignatz chooses from an assortment of coal sticks as both her most trusted men arrange her deep blue mantle and the long sleeves of her dress. Byleth resigns herself to a few hours of immobility as Ignatz works to get the sketch done. She was not made for stillness. Even after she had been sleeping for five years, she threw herself into a war as soon as she woke up.

Seteth stands on the side behind Ignatz, arms crossed and observing as the artist captures her image. Ferdinand takes a seat on a much simpler chair that he pulls from the side and places a pile of paperwork on his lap. “I got these from your office so we can decide on a few courses of action while he works.” 

Byleth sighs quietly. At least, there will be some mental stimulation. “Efficient as always, Ferdinand.” 

* * *

_Day 17 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

Seteth enters her office with a sizeable pile of reports and official documents in his arms. “Ferdinand is feeling unwell today, so I will help you,” he explains, easily shifting back into the role of advisor as he occupies the other table in the room. 

It takes her only a second to understand, the image of Ferdinand cradling in his arms a blood soaked body clad in black robes coming unbidden to her mind. The shape of his hand imprinted in red on a pale cheek, dull green eyes staring at his face unseeingly.

Bitter coffee still lingers in her mouth, and she runs her tongue over her teeth to better feel its taste. “I see.” Byleth will pay him a visit later.

* * *

_Day 30 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

In the days when Seteth and Ferdinand manage to convince (force) Byleth to leave the office to have her meals, she is directed to one of the smaller dining rooms that is close to the audience chamber. Propriety states that a queen should have her meals alone, or whatever it is that Ferdinand spouts, so she kindly tells him to shut up and join her for dinner or lunch.

It’s bad enough that she barely has time to read and reply to letters sent by her former students; she’s not going to let some rules made by some noble get in the way of having friendly company for a meal.

Smaller as the dining room may be, the table at its center is big enough to accommodate eight people comfortably, and yet they have to bring over more chairs for one of the few dinner parties she has looked forward to since rising to the throne. Byleth handed over her seat at the head of the table to a very reluctant Ferdinand, who was forced upon it by her and Alois, and had a flower crown placed on his head by Flayn. 

Differently from how they celebrated birthdays back in academy days, the dinner was made by the cooks, but the cake itself was prepared by Mercedes. It’s a three-tiered creation filled with her famous vanilla cream, decorated with edible flowers and fresh berries, and lightly dusted with sugar and cinnamon. It stands at the center of the table, surrounded by savory dishes they pass back and forth. 

Birthdays are one of the few occasions in which both advisor and Prime Minister relax when it comes to propriety, and the celebrations become warm and personal. Boisterous laughter fills the air, toasts are made and jokes are shared. Linhardt looks like he’s not about to fall asleep on the spot for once, and Manuela’s cheeks are already rosy from the amount of drinks consumed. 

When the time comes to sing happy birthday, Mercedes brings the cake closer and lights up a few candles on top. Ferdinand looks a bit misty eyed, but claps along and blows out the candles. The cake is delicious and compliments are given to Mercedes, who blushes prettily and accepts the praises. 

As the night wears on and a pile of gifts are placed in front of Ferdinand, Byleth watches from behind her glass of wine as he unwraps each one carefully and gives thanks to the person in question. The gifts follow along the same lines: boxes of fine tea leaves, riding equipment, or materials for weapon maintenance. Nothing much has changed since the Academy.

Ferdinand opens her gift and pulls out one of the cups of the brand new tea set from within the box, black porcelain with hand-painted gold designs. “Exactly what I hoped for! Thank you so much, Lady Byleth!”

Byleth returns his smile, though hers is a bit strained. It’s unfortunate that he has to share his birthday with the date of the battle at Gronder Field that happened a year ago.

* * *

_Day 1 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

“I thought you were dead.” 

“Yes... I thought so too.” If possible, Dimitri looks more tired than he had before, his eyelids heavier and expression grimmer. “I wanted to slice her throat... But I did not get the chance.” 

Byleth wants to tell him the truth. She wants to tell him about the Agarthans, the words lodged in her throat but never making it past her lips. She can never say anything different from what she said before, but every night she struggles against the bounds, confident that she will be able to move and speak freely eventually. 

“I let people die and yet... I still stand.” He shakes his head, and she catches a glimpse of something behind him. “Rodrigue, Gustave, Dedue...” 

Dimitri curls into himself, and then she sees it, weapons embed deep into his flesh. Lances, swords, arrows, and even axes, piercing through his clothes and tearing the skin beneath. The fur of his cloak is stained red, and blood slowly pools around his feet. He remains standing, but doesn’t say anything anymore. Doesn’t breathe anymore.

The impact awakens her, the texture of the rug soft against her stinging cheek. Byleth braces her hands on the floor and picks herself up, damp locks of hair sticking to her face, nightgown plastered to her back, a pressure in her chest like her heart wants to beat in tandem with her desperation, but _can’t_.

Outside, the sky is clearing up with the approaching dawn, dark blue turning lighter. She settles for getting ready for the day ahead, but the image clings to her for hours on end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a bit long, so bear with me. 
> 
> I’m a curious person, which is why I even bothered to put up with CF and all the pain it entails. When I was still playing GD/VW, I started looking through the Fire Emblem wikis for spoilers because yes? Why not? And I saw that in Silver Snow, Dimitri’s fate is left somewhat ambiguous. But not only that, [Ferdinand apparently says he thinks it could mean Dimitri is still alive.](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Dimitri#Silver_Snow)
> 
> So I went looking through YT like crazy for that scene, and last week I actually got to see it for myself, and 1) that might be from the original Japanese script or 2) it might be fake. Either way, I couldn’t let the idea go and now here we are. :^) The process for writing this monster of a fic went like this:
> 
> Step 1: look for spoilers;  
> Step 2: make a timeline for the fic;  
> Step 3: get your friend who doesn’t know anything about fe3h, show her a picture of the students, tell her who’s off limits and let her choose who gets to live and who gets to die;  
> Step 4: suffer with her choices;  
> Step 5: write for 3-4 weeks non stop;  
> Step 6: worry that this fic is bad and won’t be interesting;  
> Step 7: post it anyway. 
> 
> Title comes from ["Birds"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOXZkm9p_zY), which has become the official song for this fic in my head :^)
> 
> I hope this was enjoyable! See ya!


	2. the leader's path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the tags already, but there will be spoilers for Cindered Shadows. Do I know what I'm doing? No, but I decided to toss six OCs I made in the trash and put the Ashen Wolves in their place. Enjoy!
> 
> Here's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2F12KCqOR7i0yZWrjQBQyE?si=r4nEpFJuTZWLMRu1cA2Rbg) and [Queen Byleth outfits](https://twitter.com/chinaraii/status/1226278372176736256) for your enjoyment!

_Day 9 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

At this time of the day, the cathedral is mostly empty. Choir practice ended a few minutes ago. The orphans, all dressed in long garbs with hats on their heads, greeted her politely as they crossed the bridge on their way to their next tutoring lesson. 

Mercedes stands by herself at the center of the cathedral, looking up at the stained glass with hands clasped to her chest. Byleth stops by her side, a hand held out in offering, a tiny smile curling her lips when her friend looks her way. They both smell of sweet-apple blend tea.

Grateful, Mercedes laces their fingers together and lowers her head again. “Dear Goddess...” 

* * *

_Day 23 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

The Cardinals’ Room is full of Brigid dignitaries occupying one side of the long meeting table, whilst Byleth’s own council of ministers occupies the other side. Lorenz sits beside Marianne to walk her through the meeting; the young woman looks determined to become an excellent Minister of Religious Affairs and has expressed as such a few times. 

Judith attends to the meeting as the newly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs. Though Byleth had thought that being the Minister of Military Affairs would suit her best, that position is secured for someone else. And surprisingly, Judith was interested in coordinating foreign relations, though she didn’t specify why.

Petra sits at one end of the table with Dorothea to her right and Brigid’s Prime Minister to her left. Byleth mirrors her with Ferdinand and Seteth sitting by each side of her body, her pillars of support ever since she agreed to be the new ruler.

They have been anticipating this meeting for weeks, and have been arranging it for much longer through letters exchanged between both nations. The whole process was made easier thanks to the ties they forged during Petra’s time in Fódlan, and the new Queen of Brigid was kind enough to understand Byleth’s request, agreeing to meet in Garreg Mach for the meeting. Her people had been hesitant and suspicious, but Petra swayed them into complying. 

In the weeks that led up to this meeting, a representative from Brigid had come to spend time in Garreg Mach to better learn the language from one of the newest scholars that joined the monastery. In turn, she helped the scholar in question to deepen his knowledge of her mother tongue. 

Both scholars and representatives work tirelessly to get the message across without any misunderstandings. With Dorothea by her side, Petra seems to be making less mistakes in her speech, and while she slips up a few times, nothing deters her from negotiating the freedom of her people.

Byleth isn’t interested in making this too hard for her and those from Brigid. She’s sick and tired of dealing with political problems within Fódlan, and has no desire to keep hostile relations with neighboring countries that could easily escalate to another war. She would give Brigid the freedom it wants for free if she could, but now she has thousands of people to care about, and hundreds of nobles to please.

Fódlan is recuperating from a time of crisis, and Brigid has problems of their own born from years of being a vassal of the Empire. They start by deciding and settling a few trade routes, and opening up their ports for shipping commodities. Fódlan can help them with military affairs, and in turn Brigid can offer some seeds and materials for the restoration of the poorer parts of the kingdom. 

Byleth recalls Claude’s dreams of a world without barriers, a world where outsiders aren’t seen as inferior, and wishes to accomplish it. Soon, she promises herself. Let Brigid see that they don’t mean harm any longer, and then the rest of the world will see it too. 

If it were up to her and Petra alone, they would add it to their treaty right now, the permission to let people come and go as they please. But there are many council members to consider and, in Byleth’s case, there is Seteth, the immovable object against her own unstoppable force. They would argue that it’s too soon, that the people need time to adjust to the changes before they allow foreigners into their lands. She has to admit that they aren’t wrong. Soon, she tells herself again.

The dignitaries from Brigid relax as minutes tick away and the atmosphere between both rulers is kept light. Petra and Byleth smile at each other from across the table, their tones warm and friendly even with all the formality required, sometimes managing to make the other laugh lightly. 

Byleth is so very proud of Petra for coming so far. 

At long last, after a long and tiring meeting, Brigid is now officially given its independence from the Empire, from Fódlan. Byleth can see from her side of the table as Petra’s eyes light up once both Prime Ministers call the meeting to an end and gather both signed copies of the treaty. More interesting than that, however, is seeing Dorothea’s hand moving towards the ruler’s beneath the table and the quiet, lingering glance they share. 

Byleth is glad that Petra can now rest easy, glad that she doesn’t have to stay in Fódlan as a token of a forced allegiance anymore, and that she’s found unconditional support in Dorothea. 

A feast with ingredients brought from Brigid is arranged to celebrate the treaty and all that they have accomplished in the past hours. Ferdinand dutifully directs all council members and dignitaries to one of the formal dining rooms, whilst Byleth and Seteth linger behind to talk privately to Petra and Dorothea. 

Alone in the Cardinals’ Room, Petra reaches for Byleth’s hands and squeezes them tightly, her skin warm and tanned from the sun of her homeland. “I have much gratitude, professor! Thank you for giving my people freedom.” 

Byleth returns the gesture with a smile as Seteth says, “Rest assured that this peace will last for all of Lady Byleth’s reign.” 

“We’ll do all that we can to ensure it will go on for generations,” Byleth amends, and Petra smiles widely. 

“You have much kindness, professor.” Petra looks so happy; happier than she did when she arrived in Garreg Mach just yesterday, happier than all these years she spent in Fódlan.

Dropping her hands, Byleth turns to Dorothea next and accepts the hug the songstress had been waiting to give. “How is Brigid treating you?” 

Dorothea’s hug is tight and warm much like Petra’s handshake. And much like the Brigid ruler, Dorothea has a slight tan as well, her hair braided to combat the heat she’s still growing used to. “Oh, it’s wonderful! Learning a new language is hard, and they were skeptical of me at first, but everyone is so nice.” 

“You should come and visit us.” Petra says. Byleth notices how close together they stand. “Brigid has many beaches and beautiful sceneries. I am sure it will give you much joy.” 

“Thank you for the invitation,” Seteth dips his head cordially. “Sadly, we do have a lot that needs to be done at the moment.” 

“Maybe once things have settled down,” Byleth muses, sharing a glance with him. “That might take a while, though. My hands are full at the moment.” 

“I understand.” Like Seteth, Petra bows her head. “We are making plans to negotiate with Dagda too. Our success here has given me hope that we can be successful with them as well.” 

Byleth feels some weight lifting from her chest at the knowledge that times seem to be changing for the whole world. “We wish you the best of luck, Petra. May you succeed in securing friendly relations with them as well.”

“Oh my, you’re so formal now, professor.” Dorothea smiles with a wink, and easily intertwines her fingers together with Petra’s. “Being a queen is rubbing off on you. Some time spent in the beaches of Brigid will take care of that. We’ll be waiting for you.” 

* * *

_Day 22 of the Garland Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

Byleth calls the day off, claiming to be unwell. Seteth, upon seeing that only the top of her head is visible from her cocoon of blankets in bed, says he will reschedule all of her appointments to another day and allows her to take the day off.

The smell of blood is heavy in the air, nearly suffocating. She feels it coating her hands and splattered on her face, she can taste bergamot on her tongue, can hear the last wistful whispered plea.

Behind her eyelids, a head falls, again and again, rolling and coming to stop by her feet, violet eyes dull and lifeless.

* * *

_Day 30 of the Garland Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

For the common folk, today marks the end of the war, the day the Empire crumbled and Edelgard fell by her hands. The day most of Fódlan breathed a collective sigh of relief, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. It’s a day for celebrations, and throughout the kingdom the people are dancing and singing to commemorate their freedom.

Garreg Mach is no different. Special dishes are prepared for the main meals, and a few game stalls are placed in the front courtyard for the orphans and younger knights. Upbeat music is played by some of the most talented soldiers, plucking at mandolin strings or tapping their feet to the sound of the accordion. The gates and the portcullis are open to townsfolk who want to partake in the festivities inside the monastery. 

On her part, Byleth is happy to celebrate with a simple tea party in her favorite gazebo with treats baked by Mercedes and tea brewed by Ferdinand. She was never one for dancing and rowdy celebrations, even when her father’s band of mercenaries would roast wild game and get drunk by the fire. This is just perfect. 

Some of the quieter orphans have joined them, circling the table and munching on delicious sweets made by their favorite bishop. Mercedes often pats down their hair with a gentle smile that makes them blush from the attention, and Byleth wishes she were this good with kids. 

Even Seteth, so stern and serious, softens around these kids as he spreads butter on a slice of freshly baked bread and hands it to one of the younger orphans. Linhardt stifles a yawn as two girls pick at his hair trying to put it together in a braid, while another one fumbles by herself with Ferdinand’s ginger locks. Flayn has made good friends with them, frequently aiding Mercedes and teaching them how to read and write. Right now, she’s sitting on the ground with a few of them as they doodle scenes from their favorite tales.

Byleth has a kid of her own on her lap, who nibbles on a piece of pastry and watches his surroundings with large, curious eyes. These kids are here because of the war, and she will do her best to make sure the future will be better for them.

* * *

_Day 29 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

“There must be a reason you’re alive.” 

With his head lowered, she still can’t see the exact expression he makes in that moment. “You sound just like Rodrigue.”

She doesn’t know that man, not really. She met him once when they had to retrieve the Lance of Ruin from Sylvain’s disowned brother, Miklan, but that had been that. Whatever comments Felix made about his own father weren’t helpful either; she knew there was some bad blood between them, but Felix never opened up enough to tell her everything. 

If she had to guess, she would say it involved his late brother, Glenn. 

Dimitri lifts his head and continues, the same old words falling from his lips in the same cadence as before. Usually, she listens; she always does, holding on to whatever pieces of him she can reach, but this time she is distracted by his right eye, uncovered and whole. 

_A change?_ What could this even mean, she wonders? Her thoughts are scattered as she stands there, pinned under both of his incredibly blue eyes, so resigned and tired that she wants to soothe the shadows underneath with the pads of her thumbs. Of course, she never gets the chance.

Dimitri reels back with a roar of pain, doubling over to clutch at his head, and her blood rushes past her ears at a deafening speed. Her insides fight against the immobile cage that is her own body as he sinks to his knees, bright blood pooling at an alarming pace on the ground, dripping from his face.

Gloved fingers dig into the stone below, his head angling up to show blood soaked blonde bangs and an arrow shaft thrust deep into his eye socket-

Byleth shoots upright, the candle on her desk tumbling precariously from her rough awakening. A shaky hand reaches out to grab it, reflexes still sharp despite her current state, keeping the candle upright and preventing a disaster. Paperwork is still strewn about, waiting for her perusal and signature.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Byleth pushes away from her desk and decides to take a late night walk around Garreg Mach in order to calm down.

* * *

_Day 1 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

As she’s passing by the graveyard towards her next appointment, Byleth sees the distant form of Linhardt standing before one of the graves. He has no flowers in his hands, for his friend never truly appreciated their beauty, and the things Caspar used to like aren’t fit to be gifted to the dead.

Byleth closes her eyes as her heart squeezes in pain again. Linhardt wouldn’t appreciate being approached right now, so she resumes her walk to the old classrooms where the orphans are waiting and makes a note to reach out to him later.

She sends another prayer to the skies. Ginger burns hot on her tongue. 

* * *

_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

In the terrace on the third floor of the monastery, Byleth balances a cup of Almyran pine needles tea on the stone railing and leans her elbows on it. Looking in the general direction of Almyra, far east from the monastery, she starts thinking of where he could possibly be in that foreign place and how exactly to reach him.

Sadly, as much as she is trying to think more like him, Claude has always been, and always will be, better at predicting others than she ever will. 

That isn’t going to stop her from looking, though.

* * *

_Day 31 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

One year ago, they descended to an underground stronghold that contained foreign technology. Since then, Hanneman has been studying it with Linhardt, switching between that and their Crest research, but for the most part, the Agarthans and their technology remains a mystery. No one knows if they will ever know the full truth someday.

Today, Byleth follows Seteth down a secret passageway to a place he had referred to as Abyss. Ferdinand, Alois and some knights tag along as company. Her Prime Minister offered no further explanation when asked, and Byleth had resigned herself to waiting for him to elaborate. 

Of all the things that had crossed her mind, she hadn’t expected this Abyss to be an subterrain town just below Garreg Mach. The tunnels seem to stretch forever, dimly illuminated by flickering torches, the air damp and stale from the canals that cut through the underground area. As Seteth leads them to a specific location, most of the inhabitants eye them with distrust. 

Byleth’s head is spinning with questions by the time they reach what seems to be a classroom, debris and broken furniture scattered around. But what catches her attention the most are the four individuals waiting inside, dressed in uniforms much like the ones her former students used to wear in everything but the color palette. 

The Ashen Wolves, Seteth introduces them, a fourth unofficial house of the Academy now turned into her royal guard. 

“I have been the head of Garreg Mach for over twenty moons,” she blurts out, interrupting Seteth from introducing each of the members of this unknown fourth house. “Why am I only now finding out about all of this?”

Her stress seems to amuse them. The one with lilac hair and a purple cape over his shoulder (the house leader, her mind supplies) lets out a quiet chuckle and quirks his lips in a smirk. Behind him, the tallest man of the group laughs louder, though just as briefly. The blonde woman hides the lower half of her face behind a fan, but Byleth can see her eyes creasing in a smile. Even the redhead one, who seemed so apathetic until now, smiles.

“I will explain everything later,” Seteth says. Judging by the way he furrows his brows, Byleth can already tell that it will be a long and complicated story. “Know that they have aided us in the past with an issue pertaining one of the Cardinals of the Church. Lady Rhea’s wish before retirement was to have the Ashen Wolves house disbanded.”

Byleth looks from him to the group and back to him again. “And you... Decided to make them my royal guard instead of... Letting them go?”

“We made an agreement,” the house leader speaks up, and Byleth looks at him. “We agreed to aid in your protection in exchange of better living conditions for those in Abyss, among other things.” 

Better living conditions? If it were up to her, she would relocate everyone to somewhere above ground. She might do that if they agree with it. “I see.” There is too much to think about, so she focuses on the easiest thing to grasp on.

A royal guard. Certainly, Seteth and Alois have been working on it in secret behind her back for a while now, knowing that she would have declined it if they brought it up. And if the both of them know, then Ferdinand knows of this as well. As her advisor, he wasn’t kept in the dark about this. Unlike her.

Byleth understands their reasons for assigning a group - of students? knights? fighters? - as her royal guard. She will soon be making more appearances outside Garreg Mach, the kingdom is too fragile still from the war, assassination attempts aimed at important political figures have been part of Fódlan’s history since its beginning - but she sees no point in it when she’s earned a certain unsavory nickname due to her doings as a mercenary some odd years ago. 

“Are you really assigning four people to guard the _Ashen Demon_ , Seteth?” Again, she looks at him and his accomplices in the dim light of the classroom, eyebrows pinched in displeasure.

“Don’t say that.” Alois chides and makes a face at her given moniker like he has just bitten into a lemon wedge or kicked the corner of the table with his little toe. “You know how much Jeralt despised that name.” 

She knows that. Byleth herself hadn’t minded the name when younger, but she learned to dislike it once she truly understood its derogatory connotation. Even so, the truth is undeniable. 

“The Ashen Demon, eh?” The tall one muses aloud, lifting up his arms in a Sylvain-like fashion that has her doing a double take. For the first time, Byleth notices he wears no shirt under his coat, his well defined muscles out in plain sight and rippling under the torch-light. She lifts a brow at his attire of choice. Seteth fixes him with a stern look.

“I’m assigning them to guard the _Queen_ of United Fódlan, _Lady_ Byleth,” he counters, folding his arms behind his back.

“Please, Your Majesty. We were only thinking of your safety.” Ferdinand grimaces a bit himself and tugs at his cufflinks, rightfully dreading her reaction to- well, everything. 

To dispel the awkward mood, as well as cease with Byleth and Seteth’s mild glaring match, Ferdinand steps forth to formally introduce the four members of the Ashen Wolves house, providing her with little (very, very little) information of their backgrounds, their skills and abilities, and elaborates what they are expected to do in this position. They are to never leave the monastery unless she does. Where Byleth goes, they follow, ever in the lookout for danger and possible threats.

As unnecessary as she thinks this is, Byleth has to respect their decision to entrust her safety to one specific team, especially if she is required to venture out on her own. Besides, she admires their skills; they have all different classes from those that her former students applied for in Academy days, classes she has never heard of before.

And thus, Yuri, Constance, Balthus and Hapi become the members of Byleth’s new royal guard: the Order of Sothis. 

* * *

_Day 31 of the Verdant Rain Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

Exactly one year ago, Rhea had gone into draconic degeneration and wreaked havoc near Garreg Mach as the Immaculate One. Nowadays, she lives in seclusion in Zanado with her loyal knight Catherine as her only company. The sudden appearance of a dragon is reminded by most, though they no longer remember the exact day of its arrival. 

Byleth and Mercedes remember this day for another reason entirely. They have breakfast together, share a teapot of ginger tea, and take a moment to stroll through the greenhouse and do some gardening. 

The flowers from Duscur are still thriving and are as lovely as ever. 

* * *

_Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

Byleth never had the habit of celebrating her birthday. For starters, her father never seemed to remember her date of birth, the same way as he didn’t remember his own, even if hers was written in his diary. Or maybe they did celebrate, but he never made a big fuss out of it with cakes and extravagant gifts. She remembers spending a whole day fishing, or eating fresh pastries from the local bakery, or being gifted new weapons on different occasions. 

The last gift she was given was the Black Eagle pendant Edelgard had left on her desk over five years ago, which she has kept to this day and wears often enough, though not as often as her father’s ring, hanging from a chain around her neck. 

As queen, though, it seems it is required of her to host a ball or a celebration big enough for anyone who wants to attend. She leaves that in Ferdinand’s capable hands, the one person who’s most well versed in such kind of festivities, and dreads whatever awaits for her.

Byleth is content to spend yet another birthday like her past ones have been, simple and quiet, fishing or going out for a horseback ride or just napping to catch up on some missed sleep. Instead, Ferdinand organizes a hunt in which she has the pleasure to partake. Byleth had half expected that she would have to stay behind waiting to be gifted their wild game, but she is the one leading the group beside a very eager Alois.

As expected, the Order tags along too. It’s then that Byleth comes to learn of Constance’s... Peculiar condition, the other side of herself that comes forth when she’s exposed to sunlight. Though Balthus attempts to get her to continue moving with his loud encouragements, Hapi is the one who actually pushes her forward with her quieter words.

Yuri doesn’t say much in comparison, though he does reply to those around him rather dryly, which includes her. It feels refreshing from the usual formal treatment she gets, to be honest.

Gifts from commoners are waiting at the front the monastery, if not delivered to her in person as they are returning from their hunt. From simple weapons like daggers and throwing knives to knitted scarves and flower arrangements, Byleth takes them all with a grateful smile and a quiet voiced thanks. 

Later that night, as their games are roasted and served for dinner she shares with her friends and the Wolves, Byleth is given the gifts sent by the nobles, and she opens the ones sent by former students first, making a mental note to send a letter to thank each of them for their generosity

All in all, it was a good birthday.

* * *

_Day 17 of the Wyvern Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

Rumors that bandits and thieves were pillaging the abandoned royal palace in Fhirdiad reached Garreg Mach shortly after Dimitri’s disappearance. Once the war was over, Byleth sent a fraction of the Knights of Seiros to look after the place while she tried to handle more pressing matters back in the monastery, trying to clear her schedule as much as possible to allow for a trip.

The royal palace is a beautiful structure even in a state of decay. She can imagine its true grandiosity and splendor simply from looking at the grand ballroom, even with its missing chandeliers, torn curtains and cracked chunks of the marble floor. The windows are wrecked from the various attempts of breaking into the castle, and pieces of furniture are damaged, seemingly from being caught in a skirmish between opposing thieving groups. 

Ferdinand shadows her wherever she goes, up and down staircases with cracked steps and broken railings, through dusty rooms with piles of debris and rubbish from where a portion of the ceiling caved in. Some knights patrol the area and look for any lingering bandit and thief, while others try to put together as many salvageable items as possible to be taken to Garreg Mach. 

A pair of grand double doors lie ajar at the end of a long hallway. The deep blue rug that paves the way is torn in places, and the faces of past rulers line the cold stone walls. Some of the paintings, all of which display the impressive skill of the artist, are ruined in various ways, if not outright missing. 

Byleth stops to spare a glance at the late king and immediately notices the resemblance between him and Dimitri. Even in his youth, the young prince had taken much after his father. Were it not for his rugged appearance that haunts her dreams, she thinks he would have been the spitting image of Lambert Eggite Blayddid, even if the canvas now bears a frightening slash across the neck of his painted image. 

The space next to Lambert’s painting remains empty, waiting for the next king. 

Byleth continues towards the end of the hallway, focusing on the sound of her breathing and her muted steps on the rug. The doors open with a loud creak after a heavy push of her hands, hinges whining from months of disuse and lack of maintenance. Ahead, the throne lies on raised floor, a short series of steps leading up to it. Not as imposing as the imperial palace’s had been, but still magnificent in its own right. 

“Ferdinand.” In the stillness of the throne room, her voice is loud and echoes in its walls.

“Your Majesty?” She can see him approaching from her peripheral vision. She thinks, then, that if things had gone differently, perhaps Edelgard would have been more open to the idea of having him as Prime Minister. Or maybe not. Their views and beliefs were mostly uncompatible. 

“Please, have them look for the treasure vault.” Byleth swallows, still staring at the throne. “I want to safekeep as much as I can.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” With a bow, Ferdinand backtracks a few steps and turns around, walking out of the throne room.

Byleth continues forward, taking her time to rise up the steps and stand in front of the throne under a beam of light shining through a hole in the roof. It’s a miracle that this piece wasn’t stolen given its importance, but Byleth will count her blessings. 

To be wearing a fur-trimmed navy blue cloak on top of her white winter dress in Fhirdiad, of all places, makes a funny feeling rise up her throat. It’s suffocating. 

She touches a finger to the wood of the throne, worn out from the weather. The cushion and padding can be replaced, and hopefully the wood itself can be fixed until it looks brand new. A new coat of polish will certainly help. Maybe Cyril will be willing to give it a look and evaluate it on his next day off should she take it back to Garreg Mach. Though Byleth doesn’t want to add more to his workload, she wouldn’t trust anyone else with this. 

Taking a step back from the throne, she straightens her spine and lifts her chin. “It’s nice to see you again, Felix.” 

The shadow that’s been lurking in the corner since she first stepped into the room finally moves away from the dark. It’s been roughly a year since she last saw him, and she knows he’s keeping count too. He’s different from what she remembers, eyes sharper, hair longer, still lithe but packing more muscle. Byleth is glad to know he’s alive. 

He crosses his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His trademark stance. Appearances aside, he hasn’t changed much, it seems. “What brings you and your entourage all the way here?”

“We’ve heard that many people were coming to steal the royal family’s belongings for some time now. I am finally able to do something about it.” She turns to walk down the steps and come closer to him. 

“You sure took your sweet time,” he sneers, but she takes no offense, looking off to the side where a pile of lifeless bodies remains. If Ferdinand took notice of those, he didn’t let her know. 

“Contrary to popular belief, being a ruler isn’t easy.” Her eyes flick in his direction. “But you seem to have done a good job in keeping this place safe.” 

Felix clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and looks away. Byleth considers telling him about her recurring dreams, about the mission she entrusted Vesryn with, but chooses to keep quiet, biting her tongue instead. She remembers how grief-stricken Felix had been when Dimitri’s demise was announced, guilt eating at his insides despite the steady façade he tried to keep up. He’d done what he could to ensure Dimitri would rest peacefully in the afterlife, sparing not one enemy who crossed his path. 

To tell him that she thinks Dimitri is alive somewhere is foolish. Not only will he call her an idiot and get angry, but should Vesryn return with bad news, Felix will only hurt more. She will hurt more. Let it be only her, then. 

Felix is quiet for a few beats, and then, “What of Fraldarius?” 

Thinking of the efforts some of his classmates are putting into making sure the Fraudarius territory stays free of ruffians, Byleth smiles to herself. “Your family and friends are taking good care of it. Don’t worry.” 

To most people, Felix is a difficult person to read. Byleth can’t say she’s fluent in his body language and every twitch of his brow, but she can tell when something in his expression softens considerably. Not knowing how to express their feelings properly is a trait they seem to share, each for their own reasons. 

It won’t be long now for Ferdinand to return, so any last words have to be said. Looking at Felix in this moment, Byleth comes short of proper words. She feels she should apologize for Dimitri’s defeat, for everything that’s happened in the five years she was in deep slumber, for what’s happened with his friends during the war, but he wouldn’t take her words kindly. Felix was never one to accept apologies.

There is another thing she’s been thinking of for a while now, which might be more of his interest than any apology she could ever think of. 

“Felix.” He looks at her again, a brow quirked in a silent question. “What would you say to becoming part of my royal guard?” 

It’s clear the request takes him by surprise. He blinks and his eyes widen as the words register, before narrowing to dangerous slits. “You’ve got a lot of nerve asking that of me.” 

“I know,” she says simply, having already expected such reaction. His own resentful views on Faerghus’s values of chivalry are no secret to her or his classmates, but out of the two options she has, this is the one that would allow him to be on the move the most.

“Why me? Go ask someone else! Go ask Ashe, or Raphael from the Alliance, or In- Anyone who cares about being a knight, but me.”

Byleth doesn’t want to make him a knight, per se, but she wants an opportunity to keep a close eye on him. She’d been there for the Black Eagles shortly after Edelgard’s betrayal, she and Sylvain managed to bring Felix to her class shortly before the Holy Tomb, a big part of the Golden Deers swayed to their side once Byleth got the opportunity to talk to them during the war, and some of the other Blue Lions found their way to her five years later. 

Despite her best attempts, the students of the Blue Lion House are the ones who suffered the heaviest losses during the war; from childhood friends to parents, most of them are gone. She worries for them the most. 

Mercedes, Ashe and Sylvain correspond through letter frequently enough, but that’s only three students from a house that originally had eight people. And living in isolation like this might not be good for Felix’s mental health on the long run, especially when everything else is taken into consideration.

She can’t tell if Felix can read between the lines, especially not when he looks away with a sigh. 

“If not a member of the royal guard,” she says, because there is always another option. She’s taking a page from Claude’s book and preparing for different outcomes. “The spot of Minister of Military Affairs is still vacant.”

Felix lifts a brow. “Are you just going to offer me random positions until I accept them?”

“No,” Byleth shakes her head. “These are the only two positions I have considered for you. I remember when you said you would work for me once the war was over, after you’d gone back to Faerghus to pay respects.” 

He glares at her fiercely, tightening the arms folded across his chest. “I know that.”

Byleth doesn’t think much of his biting tone, as she’s used to it even after moons apart. “I’m not trying to drag you back. I understand you need this-” the freedom, the life as a mercenary to sort his head out, sort his feelings out, “- but should you want to go back, I am letting you know there is a position waiting.”

Felix gives her something that can be described as a long suffering look and sighs again, dropping his arms. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

She is... Pleasantly surprised by the answer he offers. Byleth nods and smiles slightly at him as he glares at some point in a dark corner of the throne room. 

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with nobles. I’m tired of crests and power plays and politics. But for you-” She wipes the joy away from her face as his glare focuses on her again. “I don’t know. I need time to think.” 

“I’ll wait however long you need,” she says with an understanding nod. 

“And if I never give you a proper answer?” 

“Then I shall never have an official minister for that.” Byleth shrugs her shoulders slightly, which makes his eyebrows rise. “Alois will enjoy taking the unofficial role, I’m sure.” Or maybe Caspar would have, but she thinks he would rather enjoy a nomad life of travel and getting into trouble.

Felix huffs what she thinks might be a cut-off chuckle and shakes his head. “With you as its ruler... Maybe Fódlan will do alright.” 

The words are high praise from Felix, and Byleth feels her lips curling into a soft smile. This kind of smile is rare these days, and she hasn’t done so in a long while. He takes notice of it and scowls in retaliation, still not fond of displays of affection directed at him. “Thank you, Felix.” 

“Right. I have high expectations of you.” Muted, approaching footsteps attract their attention. Felix points to the throne behind her. “The vault is in the right wing of the second floor of the castle. Take everything and keep it safe. That’s my last request to you.” 

“Of course, Felix.” She watches his retreating back as he steps further into the shadows. “I’m sure Dimitri would be grateful if he knew you were guarding this place.” Like his father would have been. He really is the Shield of Faerghus, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. 

Felix pauses in his steps. Even in the penumbra that falls over him, Byleth can see how he fists his hands tightly. “Maybe.” 

Byleth turns away before he can make his exit. Not seeing his escape should make it easier to lie should someone bring it up. Ferdinand walks through the open doors not too long after, long hair still neatly tied into a ponytail with a black ribbon. Behind him, a few knights follow to retrieve the throne. 

She steps out of the way as they ascend the steps and carefully pick the throne up to carry it to the many wagons stationed in the palace courtyard. The entourage will surely be a target of bandits, but something tells her that Felix will tag along unseen to make sure the belongings reach Garreg Mach safe and sound. 

Ferdinand bows his head slightly as she approaches, and she takes one last look at the empty room. “I have a feeling as to where the treasure vault might be.” 

He knows there’s more she isn’t saying, but he doesn’t press her into disclosing anything. “Lead the way, Your Majesty.” 

* * *

_Day 21 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

The unveiling of the queen’s portrait is a much bigger event than it has any right to be. Byleth silently curses all the heavy layers she’s made to wear that hinder her movements, but bears it with patience as nobles from all around walk up to share a few words with her and the artist behind the piece.

She thinks she sees a blur of purple among the people present, but can’t spot it again before it’s gone. It might be Yuri making rounds again. They really take their roles as royal guards seriously.

Ignatz stays by her side as the special guest and co-star of the evening, the one man who brought this portrait to life. Familiar faces come congratulate him, and unfamiliar ones praise his skills and techniques. Byleth isn’t well versed in art herself to keep up with all the names and styles brought up, but it’s all worth it to see Ignatz proudly blushing a brilliant pink and getting the recognition he deserves. 

Moments earlier, his parents and elder brother had stopped by to talk to her for a while and to take a closer look at the grand portrait hung in the entrance hall of the monastery. Ignatz took a lot after his mom, mostly the hair and facial features, but the eyes he inherited from his dad, kind and perceptive and of a warm caramel color. Both his parents’ eyes turned sharp, however, as they analyzed and evaluated their son’s painting, as was expected of merchants looking at such fine piece. 

After a while, Byleth excuses herself from her post by the portrait to get some fresh air in the courtyard. She can feel as Ferdinand and Seteth follow her with their eyes, but they’re surrounded by nobles themselves and therefore cannot follow. The perfect opportunity to be alone and recharge. As alone as she can be with knights posted everywhere to ensure the safety of those present, or with one or two Wolves possibly following her from the shadows. 

Servants are just beginning to light up the lanterns by the walkways in preparation for the approaching dusk. Byleth slips into a portion of the courtyard surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges in bloom, where iron-wrought chairs and tables are placed for tea time. She takes a seat on one of the chairs under a gazebo and sighs tiredly. Today was a long day, and tomorrow will be longer still, what with breakfast with the nobles in the morning before their departure and one council meeting in the afternoon.

“Psst.” 

Byleth perks up at the sound, not worried that this could be a threat on her life. She can hold her ground even when she’s dressed like this, especially when she’s got a dagger hidden in her person at all times, but no assassin would ever call for the target’s attention. 

Following the sound, she narrows her eyes at one dark corner of the courtyard from where a meek shape emerges, eliciting a gasp from the queen.

“Bernadetta.” Byleth quickly stands and closes the distance between them, gently taking hold of the young woman by the shoulders. It’s been so long since she last saw or heard of Bernadetta, long enough that she considered sending someone to Varley, if not visiting the territory herself, just to ensure her safety. “I didn’t know you’d come, you never replied to my invitation.” 

Bernadetta smiles sheepishly, a blush covering her cheeks as she wraps her arms around Byleth. “Sorry about that. I- I didn’t want to come and see all the nobles, but I wanted to see you, but I didn’t know how to say that without... Being rude.” 

Chuckling softly, Byleth runs a hand through purple hair that’s kept in a messy bob cut, made even messier from the cool breeze. “You could have said just that and I would have understood. I’m glad the knights let you through even without previous confirmation.” 

“Yeah, me too. I don’t think I’d be, um, able to sneak into the monastery.” Bernadetta wrings her hands nervously and shoots an alarmed look at the high walls of Garreg Mach. 

“Where are you staying the night? I can have a room prepared for you.” 

“I- I booked a room in an inn in the town nearby. Didn’t want anyone to see me here,” she admits with a tired little smile. All the nerves and the people here must be making her exhausted.

“I see. I understand you well. I’m getting tired myself and my feet are starting to ache.” Byleth has walked and run for far longer than she’s stood in that hall like a statue, but these heels are pure torture on her poor feet. “Would you like to see your friends again? Most of them are here and I can have them stay tomorrow after everyone else is gone, if you want.” 

Bernadetta quietly considers the offer whilst Byleth takes the opportunity to study her. She had had hopes that Bernadetta would overcome what she went through with her father and become more open to the idea of socializing, but that had not been the case. However, as long as Bernadetta knows that she can count on Byleth and her classmates, as long as she knows they are her friends and will support her unconditionally, then it should be all right. 

Being alone is very different than being lonely, and she doesn’t want that for someone as sweet as Bernadetta. 

“If it’s not too much trouble…” She murmurs, tucking her chin towards her chest.

“Rest assured, it’s not.” Byleth stays quiet for a moment, listening. “I’ll have them notified in just a second.”

“Your Majesty!” Ferdinand shows up from around the corner of hedges, bangs windswept from his quick pace. The Wolves trail behind him, having apparently not noticed the moment she slipped away. 

Rather than focus on the fact that she managed to escape their sights, Byleth smiles amusedly at the way Ferdinand and Bernadetta gape at each other. It’s clear Bernadetta hadn’t expected to be caught by anyone else so soon, and an embarrassed flush rises on her cheek. 

“Bernadetta!” Ferdinand gasps, taking a half step forward. Byleth squeezes the young woman’s shoulder gently as Ferdinand enters the courtyard, stupefied and speechless and at a loss of words, sweeping up his friend in a hug. Bernadetta squeaks and blushes harder, but eventually returns the gesture.

Looking at the Wolves, she notices something flickering in Yuri’s eyes before he slinks back into the shadows of the courtyard.

* * *

_Day 3 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

“This brings back memories,” says Ferdinand as he rides by her side, and Byleth silently agrees with his tone of voice that suggests said memories are less than pleasant. 

Magdred Way remains heavily forested and mostly unchanged years after they first set foot here. The fog that settles over the region is thicker at this time of the year, cold and humid as winter approaches.

The area would certainly look magical if not for the dense fog that can hide bandits and other deadly foes amidst the thick bushes and the clutter of trees, but even such potential threat pales in comparison to what happened here so very long ago. A man fighting for what he believed in, brought down by her hands and her students’ without as much as a chance to explain himself. 

Lord Lonato wasn't the first, nor the last, to have met such fate simply for disagreeing with the Church. Byleth still remembers how it felt to go on missions and kill them, regardless of background or social status, then return to be commended by Rhea for being so _loyal_ and for cutting down a bunch of civilians that the church was meant to help and protect in the first place.

The praise meant nothing to Byleth as she recalled how appalled her students had been, how she had found Ashe time and again in the cathedral mourning the man who taught him to read and write, and took him and his siblings out of the streets. Lord Lonato's past good deeds meant nothing in the face of Rhea’s wrath, and they couldn’t save him from a bloody death at the hands of a bunch of kids doing what they were told. 

Byleth wonders if Rhea was aware that, by trying to keep Sothis’s image and reputation unblemished by any means necessary, she ended up doing the opposite. 

She’s sure that if they look hard enough, they will find the exact spot where Lord Lonato fell. Even back then, Byleth had done all she could so none of her students would be the one to deliver the final blow, to ease some of the burden. 

“How long till Castle Gaspard?” She asks Yuri, riding ahead of the group. Constance and Hapi flank both Ferdinand and Byleth, and Balthus brings up the rear. 

“Approximately forty minutes.” He informs, then leans his head back to address the rest of the group. “Stay on guard. Who knows who or what might be hiding in these woods.” 

Is it bad that Byleth wishes someone would make an attempt at her life now just to shake thing up a little? She hasn’t felt a shred of excitement in so long, maybe a little surprise attack would make her routine feel a little less monotonous.

No, it would be ill advised to wish for such things. She doesn’t want to trouble the Wolves more than she already does, and if something were to happen, Seteth would never let her out of Garreg Mach unless strictly necessary. His over protectiveness towards Flayn must be shifting in her direction, if not expanding to accommodate her as well. Not that he think she’s incapable of defending herself, but rather that Fódlan is still in a too fragile state to suffer another tragedy.

“This is the perfect site for an ambush.” Byleth looks to her left, where Constance rides atop her horse, looking into the fog with excitement glimmering in her eyes. “Let them come! I shall test my new techniques on any bandit who dares raise a weapon against us!”

“Aw, yeah! The King of Grappling is ready to roll!” Balthus belows from behind, bumping a fist in the air. 

“Can we not?” Hapi pipes up from the right flank. She’s visibly resisting the urge to sigh. “I’m not in the mood to fight right now.”

“When are you ever?” Yuri rebukes from the front, looking at her from over his shoulder.

Seteth had explained, but Byleth fears she still hasn’t grasped all the details surrounding the group. From what he told her, the Ashen Wolf house was established by a Cardinal named Aelfric that had been... Her mother’s friend. Apparently he had made plans to resurrect her through something called the Rite of Rising, undoubtedly created as another one of Rhea’s attempts to bring Sothis back to life. 

The story gets more complicated as it involves four Apostles, four Crests thought to be long lost, a sacred relic called the Chalice of Beginnings, and a considerable amount of betrayal, but the group managed to stop him. Aelfric’s fate remains... Actually, Byleth can imagine what fate he met in the end. One not unlike Lonato’s.

According to her Prime Minister, the endeavor had started around the time she was given the Sword of the Creator. It stretched on for moons and Rhea wanted to disband the house, but never got the chance as war was declared. Upon her return, she mentioned said wish to Seteth again, and he later made an agreement with the Wolves.

Better living conditions for the people of Abyss aside, Constance, who’s been relentlessly working to restore the Nuvelle House for years, made an agreement of her own to achieve that goal. Byleth aids her however she can, as well helps Balthus with those still looking for him even after the war, whilst Hanneman and Linhardt help Hapi with her curse.

“What is this horse’s name again? I’ve been meaning to ask for a long time, but I keep forgetting.” Byleth asks after some minutes of silence, petting the horse’s black mane, though she doesn’t feel the texture due to the riding gloves she was made to wear. 

“Yours is Azure,” Ferdinand replies, reaching forward to mimic her motions. “Mine is Emmet. Yuri’s is Milo, Constance’s is Geronimo, Hapi’s is Marley, and Balthus’s is Peanut.” 

Byleth does a double take. Behind them, Balthus lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “I thought mine was out of the norm, but Peanut takes the prize.” 

Ferdinand chuckles so softly Byleth thinks it might be _fond._ “One of the orphans was around the stables when new horses were brought to the monastery. I told him he could name one of them, if he wanted.” 

“That’s sweet.” She smiles at him, grateful that he let the kid pick a name and _kept it_. “Why is mine called Azure, though?”

“No particular reason.” Ferdinand doesn’t shrug, but his shoulders move a certain way that she’s come to read it as such. “My first option was Quicksilver, but that’s more fitting for a race horse than a horse chosen for a queen. Azure sounded regal enough, I suppose. Not to mention, blue is one of the colors of the royal house.”

“I’m sure my horse will like the name Quicksilver,” Balthus calls out, but is ignored by Ferdinand. 

Byleth snickers quietly. “Azure is not a bad name. I’ll be sure to remember it.” 

The rest of the trip is spent mostly in silence. Sometimes, Ferdinand brings up a topic they had been discussing in the monastery, other times Byleth tries to rope the Wolves into sharing something about themselves. Balthus is the one more willing to share things of his past, and Constance comes next to talk about the greatness of her house. Yuri and Hapi are more reserved, and Byleth respects that. 

Castle Gaspard appears in the distance soon enough, set upon a hill that overlooks the town spread around it. From the way people gather close to the road that leads to the Oghma Mountains, Ashe must have made her visit public. Though people surround her wherever she goes, she is glad they don’t throw flowers at her feet or make a big fuss over her presence. She would feel awkward, but, most importantly, it would be awful if they adored her blindly. 

Some guards who serve under Ashe are waiting for them by the entrance of the town to dutifully lead them up the path to Castle Gaspard, where Ashe himself waits at the gates, giving her that same sweet, warm smile that lights up his whole face and make his eyes shine.

As Byleth dismounts with Ferdinand’s aid, she takes notice of the two figures standing just a step behind Ashe, one on each side. Two pairs of curious green eyes peer at her, their freckled faces reflecting the wonder they feel. Even the silver of the hair is the same, one a close crop and the other braided, shining under the bright sunlight. 

Ashe seems to have forgotten himself for a moment, but he sweeps into a perfect bow once she comes to stand in front of him. “Lady Byleth.” His siblings follow along, a little clumsy, but still adorable. “Welcome to Castle Gaspard.” 

“Thank you for having me, Sir Ashe.” Byleth tilts her head sideways to regard the ones behind him. “And these are?” 

“These are my siblings! This is my brother, Julian, and my sister, Erin.” Ashe motions to each of them as he speaks, and they stumble to bow or curtsy once again. Erin is the shortest, probably the youngest, of the three. 

How brave and caring Ashe had been to look after them when he was so young himself, even if he disagreed with his own way of dealing with things. He did what he could to provide for his siblings, and for that Byleth would never blame him. 

Noticing how his siblings keep eying the Wolves, Byleth suggests that her loyal guardians show the two of them what they know. It’s a chance to let them unwind after a long day on the road, a chance for Balthus to show off his skills, and a chance for her to be surrounded by less people. A win-win situation, really. 

Ashe tries to decline, not wanting to impose, but at the same time he’s unwilling to deny his siblings the chance to learn something from the highest order of knights (well, not _really_ ) in United Fódlan. Erin eagerly leads the way to the training grounds, and Yuri nods at Ashe as they pass. She’s certain they have much to talk about, having reunited the day after the unveiling of her portrait. 

Once they are gone, Ashe settles for giving her and Ferdinand a brief tour of his home, chattering amicably along the way. Of all the relevant chambers he shows them, he saves for last the library and its vast collection of books and tomes. He pulls one copy from the shelf and thumbs it fondly as he speaks, a very familiar name etched on the cover.

“It was here where you met Lord Lonato,” she says quietly to match the low volume of his voice. 

Ashe, looking flustered, gives her a smile. “You remember! Yes, it was here. This was the book that caught my attention.” He holds the book upright, _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind_. 

Stepping closer to the shelves, Byleth spots at least six other books depicting Loog’s deeds. “Where did you get these?” 

“That merchant with the long ponytail, Anna. She always finds some valuables in good conditions.” Ashe frowns lightly. “There is also a merchant with a weird bird-like mask. He has some books as well, but he freaks me out a bit.”

Byleth smiles to herself and carefully pulls out a book to give it a closer look. “Ashe, I’m here for a reason in particular.” 

“Y-Yes, Lady Byleth?” He stands to attention, taut like a bowstring. 

“As you already know, we have negotiated our diplomatic ties with Brigid.” Ferdinand begins to explain, and Ashe nods at his words. “Fódlan has agreed to help them with military matters in exchange of materials for our land.” 

Byleth closes the book and slips it back into place on the shelf. “What is your relationship with Petra?”

Ashe flushes and stammers, and Byleth can’t help but smile at his stunned expression. “She’s a good friend! I learned a lot from her after I returned with you from Ailell.” He tilts his head to the side. “Why do you ask, though? From my understanding, she’s now dating Dorothea and I have no- _interest_ in her in that way.” 

“I know.” Byleth soothes, and some tension uncoils from his shoulders at her reassurance. “Perhaps I should have worded that better, forgive. But you are friends, yes?”

“Well, yes. We are. Why do you ask?”

“We received a letter from Her Majesty not too long ago.” Ferdinand reaches into his coat to pull a piece of parchment paper out, folded in a neat little square. “She’s requesting your services.”

Ashe blinks, confused. “My... Services?”

“Petra is looking into establishing Brigid’s first order of knights,” Byleth elaborates, watching as realization dawns on his face and his eyes widen. “She requests your help to train her future knights.”

It’s not every day that she sees his usually bright eyes get even brighter. Ashe sniffs suspiciously and bends into a crip bow. “I- I’d be honored to accept.” As he straightens up, Byleth smiles and reaches over to ruffle his hair gently, eliciting a chuckle from him.

* * *

_Day 19 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1187, Eisner Era_

* * *

It’s raining. That’s the first thing she notices as soon as nothingness shifts into a very familiar scenery, the buildings and trees that usually surround them now shrouded in darkness, the fire of the torches extinguished. 

She can barely see his silhouette, the width of his shoulders and the texture of the pelt that covers them. Byleth looks up to see lightning flashing between black rain clouds, looks down again to catch a brief glimpse of Dimitri when their surroundings light up for just a second. He looks the same, though the change in the weather worries her. 

“Professor.” She tries to focus on his voice, but can only concentrate on the rain. Finally a change to this dream. But how did this happen? “I came here to explain my decision.” 

Byleth can feel her lips parting to speak, but the words are cut short as a large glowing object slices through the space where Dimitri stands in an orange colored arc. Something warm and wet splashes on her face, the sudden smell of copper overpowering the petrichor of the rain. Lightning strikes as the diluted taste of blood falls into her mouth, the flash revealing Dimitri’s body lying in a heap on the ground. His head now rests on the wet grass to her left, blue eye still open and staring at her. 

She chokes on the bile rising up her throat and the scream she can’t quite let out. Aymr glows ominously just ahead of her, held in Edelgard’s steady grip. Her former student’s hair frames her gaunt face, slick and straight from the rain, purple veins visible beneath the greyish skin.

A hand touches her shoulder, and Byleth breaks away, stumbling from where she’s been standing rooted since her nightmares started. “Chatterbox? Hey, Chatterbox!” Her eyes fly open, staring up at Hapi’s face as her guard leans over her on the cot of her tent. “Are you alright?” 

Byleth releases a shaky breath, forcing her fingers to uncurl from around the blankets she had been gripping too tight. Her throat burns, a bitter taste in her mouth as she swallows down the urge to vomit. Right. Hapi. The Wolves. Camping. Going back to Garreg Mach after some days spent in Castle Gaspard. Ferdinand- will soon be here if she doesn’t reassure the girl currently frowning at her. 

“Yes,” she breathes out, lifting a hand to brush her damp bangs away from her face. If she closes her eyes now, she will see Edelgard’s empty eye sockets staring unseeingly at her. “It was just a bad dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had much time to play fe3h these days, so I don't know for certain how to get the characterization for the Ashen Wolves just right yet. I mean, I watched the supports but still. And because I decided to shove them in the story, I have to rework all the other parts that I already had written down, so it might take..... Some time for me to update, especially considering that my days have been extra busy. I've been writing many other shorter stories in between but oof. 90% of the time I just stare of the wall fhfsfhagf
> 
> Now here's a bit of Lore. The game mechanics, when it comes to students from other houses, are Like That for the sake of making the story as painful as it can be (I mean...... am I wrong), but I said fuck it and did my thing. This is how the students from the Golden Deer and Blue Lion houses joined Byleth during the game events:
> 
> Sylvain: transferred right after the mock battle because wow teacher hot  
> Felix: transferred shortly before the Holy Tomb mission  
> Ashe: was spared and convinced to change sides in Ailell  
> Mercedes: was ordered to flee Gronder Field with an unconscious Ingrid and sought refuge in Garreg Mach  
> Ingrid: was brought to Garreg Mach by Mercedes  
> Marianne: was recruited to the Black Eagle house before the Battle of Eagle and Lion  
> Leonie: returned to the Monastery once word spread that Byleth was alive to keep her promise to Jeralt  
> Hilda: survived Gronder Field; sought Byleth to help locate Claude  
> Lorenz: was convinced to change sides in the Great Bridge of Myrddin  
> Ignatz: returned to the Monastery once word spread that Byleth was alive and the Knights of Seiros had returned  
> Raphael: survived Gronder Field; accompanied Hilda to Garreg Mach to end the war and make Fódlan a safer place for his little sister

**Author's Note:**

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